


Stray

by facetofcathy



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bisexual Character, Domestic, Future Fic, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A non-AU future fic, which for the uninitiated means the characters all have their canon lives (mostly) and this is set a couple of years after the end of Supernatural.</p><p>This story was started before Jared's recent wedding, which goes unmentioned.  However, Jensen and Danneel are married in this story, if that's a problem given the pairing, please don't read.</p><p><em>"Put it in a different context, you mean. See if it starts feeling natural?"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perkins/gifts).



> Written for the Help Haiti auction on livejournal. I hope you enjoy reading.

"I am an awesome househusband," Jensen said into his phone.

He was jockeying for position in front of the tomatoes, and the woman he was competing with snorted out an indelicate laugh at this statement and waved him ahead of her. Putting tomatoes into a bag one-handed was tricky, but he managed it and tossed in a couple of one-liners that made his sister laugh at the same time. While he had her laughing, he slipped in a couple of comments about the script he'd been playing at writing since he hadn't found anything he even wanted to consider acting in lately. She said that if he thought there was a market for _The Adventures of Sarcasm Man_, he should give it a whirl. Which, coming from her, was an enthusiastic endorsement. Then she told him to quit calling it playing around if he wanted her to take him seriously.

His call waiting beeped in his ear before she could tell him anymore home truths, and Jensen frowned at the unfamiliar number. He hesitated and then aimed a defiant expletive at all the stalkerish fans who had haunted him over the years and took the call.

He heard a _hey, man_ layered in with some crowd noise and a staticky loudspeaker—the unmistakable sounds of a busy airport.

As it turned out, Jensen was not an awesome househusband. He abandoned his cart in the produce section, jogged to his car, and headed for the freeway.

Danneel's car was in the driveway by the time he got home. He tossed his keys on the hall table, braced himself for the Icarus assault, and called out, "Hey, honey, I'm home."

"Thought that was my line," Danneel hollered back, and Jensen moved toward the sound of her voice.

She was sitting at the dining room table, script pages and notes spread out in an arc around her. She hadn't bothered with makeup for the drive home, and her hair was still damp and pulled into a rough knot on top of her head. She was chewing on the end of a purple pen, and he thought she was gorgeous and hoped she wasn't going to be pissed off.

She looked up and froze, staring.

Jensen couldn't read her expression at all, beyond the surprise that was obvious. "He, ah, followed me home," Jensen said and tried his most charming and innocent smile.

That broke Danneel out of her shock, and she stopped staring at Jared long enough to glare at Jensen.

Jared slapped him on the back, and he'd forgotten just how hard that slap always landed. "Smooth, man, real smooth," he said, and then to Danneel, "You're not obligated to keep me."

Danneel shook her head at that, but she pointed at Jensen and said sternly, "You have to feed him and take him for walks."

Jared laughed like Danneel had meant him too.

Jensen got them beers and they sat around the table telling a lot of bullshit stories while Icarus made himself at home in Jared's lap.

* * *

Jared ran his thumb over the edge of the table. It looked like old barn boards fitted together and sanded and stained. The empty spaces where knots had fallen out gleamed a shiny near-black against the gold of the wood. His palm curved easily around the smooth sides of the table, like it was inviting his touch. He'd seen something like it in New York, old wood made into small square tables for the latest trendy lounge that served rain forest-themed cocktails made with fruit flown in from South America.

"My granddaddy made that, or so says the family legend," Danneel said.

Jared looked up, realizing he'd let the conversation go on around him for too long. She was watching him with a searching look, trying to find the man she knew, he figured, which was fair; it had been over a year since they'd even laid eyes on each other. When she found him, maybe she'd clue him in on where the hell he was.

Jared stalled with a sip of beer and tried to grin like he was having the time of his life. "It's beautiful," he said, and she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. She wasn't buying what he was selling, which put her in good company with most of the casting directors in New York.

Jared knew the trick to use when that happened, give her possession of the ball for a while. "So I've seen a few bits of the show, you're looking fantastic of course, but it looks like a good show too."

"It's good enough," she said slowly, still giving him a measuring look. "I don't think I make a very convincing doctor, and the dialogue is hard as hell to learn sometimes, but it's good for now."

"Luckily the networks don't usually care about convincing," Jensen said, and Danneel fired a pen at his head, but she was smiling, and Jensen was laughing and using her pen to draw little doodles on the pages he'd stolen from her to read over and mock.

"Yeah, or you'd have never been allowed to try to be the brother of someone as pretty as me," Jared said.

Jensen narrowed his eyes and said, "I never found being your brother hard work, Padalecki."

Jared could hear the honest sincerity in the words, and it made him feel a bit nostalgic and a stupid amount pleased, but with Jensen, you always had to watch for the sting in the tail.

"But then, I am just that good," Jensen said and grinned. "We could have used that cardboard cutout of you a little more often and no one would have noticed."

Danneel kindly tossed him a pen to fire at Jensen's head.

* * *

Danneel could clearly see Jensen lurking around the bathroom door, so she tilted her head in inquiry, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"You're not mad?" he asked her.

"No, I'm not mad, you idiot. I just—you saw him, trying too hard to look happy, fake smile, fake tan, $200 haircut. He makes me want to cook him pot roast and pat his head or something."

"You know how to make pot roast?"

"Or Thai stir-fry then, if you want realism, Ackles. Jesus. Did he say anything to you about what the hell's been going on?"

"Not a word, talked his ass off all the way from LAX to the driveway and never said a single thing that mattered."

"A master at his craft," she said and sighed at the lines around her eyes. Why the hell were Jensen's the object of lust the world over, and hers were a time bomb ticking away? "Maybe you should get him drunk."

"That just decreases the signal to noise ratio until you feel like you're boozing up with a toddler."

Danneel knew that, had seen it more than once, and she was smiling at her memories of the man Jared had been and frowning at the current reality both. "Well don't let him spew any more bullshit about getting a hotel, that man should not be on his own."

"Yes'm."

Danneel glared at him over her shoulder, and Jensen gave her his _you know you love me, baby_ pose, which worked every time, not that she was admitting that to him. Damn the man.

She gave him a stern look and said, "And you _are_ feeding him. I remember how he eats, so go buy a side of beef or something."

She was resigned to coming home to some sort of reprise of their Vancouver playpen days of take out and video games and guitars underfoot, so she didn't even bother to make any threats about that. She remembered one memorable weekend when Jared had decided to have a tasting party, so he'd opened up about two thousand dollars worth of Italian wine he'd had stashed and ordered in from every pizza place in the neighbourhood. They'd ended up happily sated and inebriated, and it had been an absolutely wonderful night.

She had to admit, a little of that old lifestyle might not be such a bad thing.

* * *

Jensen was making Jared twitchy. They'd had a fun weekend; they'd all pretended Jared was a tourist, and Danneel and Jensen had shown him around their neighbourhood, showed him all the highlights like the dry cleaners and the drug store and the bar that was a little too glossy to be a neighbourhood joint, but came as close as this part of L.A. provided. It had been fun, the first real opportunity he'd had to see them together, a real married couple right down to the matching rings.

After a few days of it, Jared was sick of being treated like a guest, but Jensen just wouldn't quit.

Jared settled at the dining room table, had Icarus occupying his lap before he was all the way in the chair, and decided he was not moving until lunch. He was tense all over, had been for months, and he just wanted to relax and see if he could unclench his jaw finally.

"What's on the agenda today, man?" Jensen asked, standing in the kitchen doorway and looking bright and energetic and determinedly willing to keep Jared entertained.

"No agenda, just—why don't you do whatever you do?" Jared had caught the glance Jensen shot over to the laptop and neat stack of paper sitting idle on one end of the dining table.

"I told you, I'm fooling myself with this writing idea. I just—"

"Jensen," Jared said, letting his exasperation show. Jared had heard this song before, and he was sick of it, but he knew arguing was pointless because he did know Jensen. He knew that what Jensen wanted was to be taken seriously, maybe more than anything else. "Show me what you got," he said, hint of challenge in his voice; he leaned back into a sprawl, as well as he could in the uncomfortable chair and without tipping the dog off onto the floor.

Jensen stomped over and sat in a sprawl as studiously casual as Jared's, but belied by the intense scowl on his face. He booted up the computer and then swung it around to Jared. "Don't say I didn't warn you," He said.

Jared schooled his features into a frown, let himself look a little skeptical even, and read through the first few pages. "What the hell is _insert technical babble later_ supposed to mean?"

"Everybody does that," Jensen said, irritation creeping into his voice and driving out the cheerful host persona. "I can look that up later or something."

Jared snaked out an arm and snagged a pad of paper off Jensen's neat little pile. He ripped of a sheet leaving a ragged edge. He bet himself Jensen would have to neaten up the pad within 5 minutes. Jared grinned big and flipped the page over so he wouldn't need to worry about lines confining his scribble, and he made a note of the page number and jotted down _technical babble_.

He read through the rest of the script, made a few more notes, and when he was done, he slid the computer back over and said, "Get to work, Ackles, and I'll see if I can make up some babble for you."

"If anybody, can, Padalecki, it's you," Jensen said sourly, but Jared knew that tart flavour hid a sweet centre.

Jared grumbled a few obscenities back at Jensen for form's sake, but he felt like someone had finally given him a job he could do. He scratched Icarus behind his ears and started writing out some sample babble.

* * *

Jared shifted in the hard wooden chair and tried to get comfortable. He and Danneel could move to the living room with its comfortable chairs and beguiling plasma television, but lately they were sticking close to their places at the dining room table. Jensen's spot was demarcated by his laptop, one pad of yellow lined paper and a coffee cup full of pens that he'd mostly received airborne. Danneel's was a neat stack of scripts and a clutter of mail—bills and invitations and contracts and residual receipts. Jared's was a chaotic mess of hardbound books, his laptop, part pads of paper he'd stolen from Jensen. He had notes written on loose bits of yellow paper and in a bound leather diary he'd found the same day he'd gone out computer shopping. He also had scripts and script pages, his own and Danneel's, with torn envelopes and receipts acting as bookmarks.

"You want to go again?" Jared asked, and waved the script page at Danneel. He was playing her teenage patient, hamming it up while she was trying to get comfortable with pages of doctor lingo.

"I don't know. I'm trying to get this to sound natural, not over-rehearsed. I'm not sure I know when to quit."

"You're talking to the wrong guy for advice on that," Jared said, and then wished he hadn't when he suddenly had her full attention. She'd been easy on him for the few weeks he'd been camping in their house, letting him goof off with Jensen and relearn how to have fun. She'd never once asked him any questions, but they'd been close before, good enough friends that they'd talked about more than the weather or the football scores, and he expected her to ask him what the hell he was doing hiding in their dining room at some point.

"You don't have to explain, you know," she said, and looked back down at her script.

Jared watched Jensen over her shoulder. He was moving around in the kitchen, safe behind a wall of steam and clatter and the smell of roasting meat, and wasn't paying them any attention.

"New York is supposed to be the place you go to prove yourself—if you can make it there, and all that shit," Jared said. He tossed the script aside, leaned forward on his elbows and focused on the whorls of the grain in Danneel's table, what he could see of it underneath his scatter of paper; they'd become as familiar as the lines on his own hands. "I thought that what I was supposed to do was put my head down and just push at it. I just kept pushing, and nothing ever gave way, not Gen, not the casting people, nothing, and I didn't know what to do but push harder."

Jared traced over the lines of a knot in the wood with his thumbnail. Danneel didn't make a sound; he didn't even know if she was looking at him or still pretending to read her script.

"Eventually Gen pushed back, and that should have been the thing, right? The thing that made me wake up and stop just bulling forward, but it only made it worse." Jared laughed at the understatement that word covered over. "I just didn't know how to get off the track I was on. Stupid and stubborn, I guess."

"Lives right next door to confident and persistent," Danneel said.

Jared looked up then and saw that she _was_ looking at him, and she looked sympathetic, but there was something about her expression, like she'd just figured something out—him, he supposed. He was afraid to ask, even though he wouldn't mind if somebody clued him in to what the hell kept fucking up his life. "I don't even know what it was that made me finally give up, finally just walk away." He'd almost gone to Texas, gone home, but he couldn't imagine trying to explain himself to his family.

"Are you two clearing off that table, or are we eating in front of the television?" Jensen hollered from the kitchen.

"Television," Jared and Danneel hollered back in unison.

"Savages," Jensen said just loud enough for them to hear.

"Let's forget about the scene," Jared said. "Let's pretend I'm your best friend or something, and you're telling me about what happened."

Danneel frowned down at the script in her hand and then closed it firmly. "Put it in a different context, you mean. See if it starts feeling natural?"

* * *

Jared tipped back his chair and hummed happily.

Jensen made a rude noise.

"I heard that," Jared said. "I think you have chair envy, Ackles."

Danneel ducked behind her script. She seemed to think no one would know she was laughing if they couldn't see her mouth. Jared could have told her that her eyes gave it away, but he wasn't sure he should start a conversation about just how well he was getting to know that look of exasperated amusement. Or how much he liked it.

"I'm just shocked that you paid twelve hundred dollars for a chair," Jensen said.

"It's extremely comfortable."

"Did they cast it from a mold of your ass? Because, seriously, twelve hundred bucks, man."

"It's specially designed for the above average man, Ackles. I am an above average man." Jared wiggled in his gloriously comfortable chair, with a back that was actually high enough and a seat that was far enough off the floor. He'd got the deluxe model with a built in heat and massage unit, but he was keeping that feature a secret until the first time Jensen sat in it.

"Are you sure it can hold you and your ego?"

"Weighted up to seven hundred pounds," Jared said smugly.

Jensen turned back to his laptop, and Jared watched him shift on his hard wooden chair. "So, no then," Jensen said.

Jared thought to brace himself so that the chair didn't roll backwards and land him on his ass. If anyone was landing on their ass, it was Ackles.

He had Jensen in a head lock and was trying to get a leg over Jensen's to stop the wild kicking before one landed on something more delicate than his shin, when he registered the cracking sound he'd heard as they were hitting the floor. He subdued Jensen the easy way, by pretty much lying on top of him, so he could get a look at the chair. It was tipped over on its back, and the crack running right up one leg was hard to miss.

"You break it, you bought it, Padalecki," Danneel said and lifted her feet up onto another chair. Smart woman, Jared thought, because Jensen only looked subdued.

He bucked under Jared, and got an arm free which put his elbow in play, and Jared either had to give way or take the hit. He let Jensen wriggle away; he was breathing pretty hard, and Jared was sure they were both too old for this.

"Christ, you weigh a fucking ton, dude. I feel like a linebacker landed on me," Jensen said, rubbing at his chest.

"Yeah, well," Jared answered, sounding a little petulant, and he cursed himself for it. He knew he wasn't the lean, cut figure he'd tried to be in New York, but he also seemed to be more thin skinned too.

"Hey, man. No, no," Jensen said sounding contrite and looking sympathetic, and if he apologized, Jared was going to kick _him_ in something other than the shin. "I didn't mean—" Jensen's expression faded from contrition to pure Jensen-style evil, and Jared should have known it would be okay. He wasn't even all that surprised when Jensen took a deep breath and belted out, "Don't go changing to try and please me ..."

Jared flopped back on his back and listened, big grin stretching his face. "Harris," he bellowed over Jensen singing something about Jared not changing the colour of his hair, "your husband is on the floor, singing Billy Joel."

"We all have our crosses to bear, Padalecki," she said.

* * *

Jensen managed to arrange delivery of his chair on a day when Jared was out on an audition. He'd upgraded from Jared's plain grey fabric to a stylish dark green leather and discovered that, when tipped back, it was quite possible to fall asleep in it, it was just that comfortable. At $800, Danneel would be buying her own if she wanted one, though.

He'd damn near fucked up with Jared, making cracks about his size. He'd seen all this before, Jared smartening up and going off the _supplements_ and dialing the workouts down to a more reasonable level actually meant a bigger Jared who was broad all over, and he'd managed to forget that the giant idiot could be sensitive about it.

Danneel had smacked him in the head that night, muttering about how few guys had the guts to actually have a gut in L.A., and then she'd disappeared downstairs, returning with a carton of Ben and Jerry's and one spoon.

He'd known exactly how to convince her to share, and if Jared had heard her shrieking about how cold it was when he'd put his plan into action, well—Jared had to have heard, they'd gotten pretty loud. Jensen decided not to worry about it and just enjoy his comfy, new, much nicer than Jared's chair.

"Given in to your chair envy, eh, Ackles?" Jared said from right above him.

Jensen started upright, blushing because he'd been imagining Danneel and their sheets sticky with ice cream, and it must have been written all over his face. "I'm putting a fucking bell on you, man."

Jared was looming over him, Icarus tucked under one arm, which explained the lack of racket to announce his arrival—the little traitor did whatever Jared wanted these days. Jared had a huge grin on his face, dimples out and proud, and Jensen hadn't seen him look like that in too damn long. "You got it?"

"I got it. You are looking at a gainfully employed actor."

"Fantastic, man, really."

Jared shrugged and let Icarus loose to burn up designer dog food calories in the endless circles he'd taken to running around his new best friend. "It's only a six episode run, not a real job."

"It's a real job, asshole. More than what I got."

Jared rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to say anything about Jensen's self doubt. He'd stopped doing that the second week after he'd arrived and just started researching whatever Jensen asked him to and then pestered him to show the new pages when they were ready.

"I wanted to celebrate, thought I'd take you guys out?" he said.

Jensen gave him a look; he sounded almost unsure, like maybe they wouldn't want to. "Table for three. Someplace up to Danneel's standards, though."

Jared grinned at him. "'Cause neither one of us have any."

"Damn straight."

* * *

They were sprawled back in their chairs—Jensen and the other one both—bickering happily about basketball scores and whether or not the word awesome should be retired from Jared's vocabulary, and she was trying to ignore them.

"You're just jealous, man," Jared said smugly and ostentatiously patted Icarus' head. The damn dog was on Jared's lap again—had taken to sleeping in his bed, and Jensen was horribly, hilariously jealous. Jared had that right enough.

"You probably just smell like bacon, dude. Once the poor thing realizes his mistake, that'll be it for you."

"Sure, Ackles. Keep telling yourself that. He just recognizes my superior charm."

"The smell is what he recognizes," Jensen said. "Where the hell are your own beasts anyway?"

Danneel set her finger over the word intubate to mark her place, and tried to look like she was still reading.

"Home," Jared said, and started running his thumb along a knot in the table top. "Couldn't see having them in New York, you know, and they've been shifted around enough."

"But, dude, they'll be fine as long as they're with you, don't you think?" Jensen sounded exactly like he did when he was trying to get her to understand how simple life would be if she just did things his way. She did not need the hassle of their bickering turning serious.

She aimed a kick at Jensen. Possibly, she kicked a bit harder than strictly necessary, but Jensen got the message and started bugging Jared about the latest episode of the series he was guesting on, and the truly dreadful makeup job they'd done on him.

She went back to trying to ignore them.

* * *

Back in Vancouver, Jensen had discovered that his housemate and his girlfriend had more in common than him and a passion for early morning exercise. They were often up to workout at hours that Jensen needed to be persuaded to see with a paycheck, and he'd found them talking over coffee and healthy breakfast food many a Sunday morning. They'd talked about acting a lot, seriously, not gossip or the business talk that dominated any group of actors generally, and serious in a way Danneel never was with him.

He knew why that was, knew he had a smart mouth, and she could go toe to toe with him on most things when she wanted to, but she'd had a shaky confidence in herself back then. He'd been smart enough then to let them talk while he listened, and he was smart enough now to do the same.

She never asked him to run lines with her anymore; Jared always happily took that job, and he was good at it, knew when to goof around, knew when to play it straight. Jensen didn't miss it; he thought the writing on her show was appalling and he couldn't make himself take it seriously, but it was fun listening to Jared try to be every other cast member on her show. It was also a nice reminder of all the things about acting he didn't miss.

"Okay," Jared said, and he leaned back to let Icarus make himself at home in his lap, "let's try that again from the argument with the nurse, and try to make it seem like you realize that Keith is listening in by the time you get to the bit about the lab tests."

"That's not in the script, Jared," Danneel said.

"But it should be." Jared grinned at her and then ducked his head, transferred his focus onto the dog.

Danneel smiled slowly and watched Jared's fingers on the dog's neck. She looked away when he looked back up. "If you play it subtle enough they'll let you get away with it."

"And if not, I can always apologize afterwards?"

Jared nodded and said, "Always works for me."

Jensen started to say something about how he never got away with that, at least not with the two of them, but they were doing the darting glances and head ducking thing again so he decided to stay quiet and just watch.

They gave quite a show.

He avoided the guy in the mirror while he went about his nighttime routine. He didn't need to see his own face, blank with surprise, to know he'd not seen this coming.

He had watched them downstairs, Danneel and Jared, glances sliding off each other, smiles flickering, cheeks flushing, and then one or the other would tense up and curl in on themselves, go quiet. Neither one of them did quiet all that well, and it would start again, peeking through lashes and soft smiles and Jensen had tried to barely move, to not draw attention. He'd been afraid to fracture the moment, afraid that if this all broke apart, it would be beyond fixing.

He scrubbed at his face harder than he should, and pushed through into the bedroom. Danneel was already buried deep, a spray of auburn on the pillow the only bit of her visible in the lamp light.

Jensen climbed up beside her and sat against the headboard.

"That's your _honey, we need to talk_ pose," Danneel said from her cocoon.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"But I don't want to talk," she said in an exaggerated whine, but she lurched upright, left her hair wild around her head, and sat crosslegged and glaring at him.

"Poor baby." Jensen looked at her, gripped with affection for her messy, cranky self.

"Jared," she said seriously, and all traces of humour were gone. She looked almost frightened, and that was just not right.

"Yeah, look—just—it's not bad, I don't think. I just—"

She looked a little skeptical at his poor attempts at reassurance, and Jensen tried to gather up his thoughts, focus on keeping things together.

He started over. "I was watching you down there tonight. Watching you both with this thing you've got, this thing you have for each other." Danneel looked ready to object, and he held up a hand. "Don't even—you've both got it bad, and I was thinking I should be really upset or angry and all I was just relieved."

"Relieved?"

"I don't, seriously, I don't know exactly where this is coming from, but I was relieved because this way Jared won't leave."

"And you say I have a thing," she said calmly.

"I don't, it's not the same—do I ?" Jensen stared at her, and she stared back at him. She had the thing, her and Jared, and he was just—weirdly okay with it. "This isn't about me."

He had no sense that he'd ever made a choice, that there'd been a choice in the offing. He hadn't picked Danneel instead of something else, there was no something else, he would swear to that, that there had not ever been an anything else, and yet—

"Jensen," she said, "chances are, the second Jared realizes you see how he feels, he _will_ leave."

"No," Jensen said sharply and even thinking about it was painful.

She laughed and said, "I am not admitting that I am anything more than slightly infatuated, but you..."

Jensen raised his brows, and she matched him with a look of challenge. She was a hell of a lot more than infatuated, but that didn't mean he was. He wasn't anything.

"I also have to get up when it's still dark," she said, and Jensen nodded, slid down in the bed, and waited for her to settle before he hit the light switch.

He rolled on to his side, scooted back until her feet were tight to his calves and their backs were touching. There was no thing. Was there?

* * *

Jensen had hardly slept, and a shower hadn't helped, and he didn't want to shave and have to look at the dark circles under his eyes, so he skipped it. He hid in the kitchen. He'd gotten good at putting up a barrier of noise and inattention that blocked him from the dining room occupants when he retreated here. Besides, there was nothing so horrible that bacon couldn't make better.

Icarus announced Jared with his usually frenzy of barking and bouncing around, amped up to Jared-worthy levels. Jensen turned around in time to see Jared stripping his shirt off to scrub at the sweat on his face and towel his hair somewhere close to dry. He was running every day, and working on the weights with Danneel, but with nothing even close to his old intensity. He hadn't dropped his more disgusting habits though, and this wasn't the first day that Jensen had seen this routine, but today was different.

Jensen turned back to the stove, fussed over the food. He could smell the damn man from across the room, sweat, and some citrus smell, and he was getting turned on for fuck's sake. He damn near levitated when Jared's long, ridiculously muscled forearm appeared in front of him, and nimble fingers snatched a piece of bacon right out of the pan.

"Fuck off, Padalecki," Jensen said, and he sounded like he was pleading. Jesus.

"Do we need to put you back on decaf?"

"Fuck off."

"That's it," Jared said, nodding sagely, "save the wit for the page, baby."

Jensen laughed. He wanted to scream. He had spent years in captivity with Jared, years listening to his stupid smart mouth, years seeing him go from a gangly cute kid to a lean and mean muscle man. He was some other thing altogether now, still a giant, but gone soft around the middle, and all Jensen wanted to do was touch, find out how soft that skin would be, how it would feel to lay his hands on the man. He'd never before, never—they'd been friends. He didn't think he had ever looked at Jared like that, Jesus. The man he was thinking about this way was in love with his wife. And she was possibly—"Go have a fucking shower, Jared," Jensen said, thinking that if he got Jared out of the room he could untangle his mind.

"Fine, but you better save me some of that bacon."

Icarus ran out of the kitchen after Jared, spiralling around him in an excited orbit, not trying to resist the attraction pulling him closer. It appeared the stupid over Jared club included the whole family.

* * *

Jared had run from New York, was the plain truth. He'd damn near run to Texas, wanting home, but he'd ended up on a plane to L.A. He felt like he'd been hiding with Jensen and Danneel at first, but something had changed without him noticing and it felt different. Different enough to make him think he should start looking for his own place.

His manager sent him a big tan envelope every week or so, full of the reminders of the scattered threads that still connected him to people he'd known and places he'd lived. Not much ever came from New York, a bill or a bit of nothing from someone he never wanted to see again. Some things showed up from Vancouver, notes from a couple of crew guys his own age, guys he'd been able to play at normal with in run-down bars over greasy fries and Canadian beer. He still owned the house up there, rented it out for enough to pay the bills. His tax man bitched about it every year, but Jared told him it was his retirement plan and refused to hear tell of selling it.

He dumped the contents of the newest envelope onto the table, sorted out a neat pile of trash and another pile of things he needed to actually open, and was left with a creamy square envelope folded from thick luxurious paper and addressed in a firm hand, blue ink carved into the surface like runes into a slab of sandstone. He recognized the writing, knew the hand that had held the pen.

Jared took the thing into the kitchen to slit it with a steak knife, unwilling to tear into it with his big blunt fingers. He read it over twice, committing the formal phrases to memory, tracing the loops of ink with his finger. The R.S.V.P. card asked for the name of his guest, nothing so common as the term plus one on this card, but guest was always singular. He'd always known that, had known it when he'd proposed to Sandy, known it a few months after when he'd moved Jensen into his house and when he'd helped him move back out. He'd always known what he was doing and why. He knew his Vancouver house was more memento than investment, and that he'd always chosen the direction that seemed right at the time. None of which had ever helped him make his choices work out.

There were benefits, weren't there, to knowing that hand that had carved those blue words into the paper? It meant something that she'd addressed it herself. Jared tucked the pages back into the envelope and traced the letters of his own name while he punched a few buttons on his phone.

They traded greetings, as carefully casual as the invitation had been formal, and then he said simply, "Would it be okay if my plus one was actually two?"

* * *

Danneel kept her head down and focused on her dinner. Across form her, Jared was staring at his plate like he'd never seen a slightly undercooked baked potato before. Jensen was looking spooked, which was getting to be his default, and she was wondering if something had happened between them while she'd been off playing doctor. This felt like the calm before the storm, though— electricity crackling in the air, everything too quiet and making everybody edgy. She ate the edible parts of her meal, smirked at Jensen's forth apologetic grimace, and decided to lighten things up.

"Are there playoffs on that I'm not aware of?" she said, looking pointedly from one scraggly week-old beard to the other.

Jensen automatically started scratching at his chin, and Jared held out for almost ten seconds before he joined in.

"You wouldn't understand, Harris," Jensen said and poked at the remains on his plate.

"No, you men-creatures are so mysterious, Ackles."

They both smiled, soft curve of lips in a bed of ragged stubble.

"It's going to have to come off," Jared said quietly, "well, mine is."

"Yeah," Jensen said, "you have something coming up?"

"Um, yeah, not work, and I need to ask you guys, should have sooner, but—" Jared huffed a sigh and sat up, looked right at her, and she couldn't look away this time. He seemed so intense, so serious, she thought he was going to call the elephant in the room by name. She held her breath, wanting him to, and terrified that he would.

"Sandy's getting married," he said, and that was not at all what she'd been expecting.

"Really?" Jensen said and then watched as Jared pulled out a square of buff paper and ran his hands over the surface.

She'd caught Jensen doing that lately, staring at Jared's hands, tracking his movements. Jensen glanced over, caught her watching him, and he raised a sardonic eyebrow. She met him with a tilt of her chin. If he wanted to talk about who'd been looking where, she was willing.

Jared broke their stalemate, not that he'd even noticed them carrying on around him. "It's a small thing, like a hundred people or something, she said, but she was cool about it when I asked, and anyway, I wanted you guys to come with me."

Danneel glanced at Jensen, who was looking carefully blank, and she couldn't read Jared at all, couldn't get anything off of him but tension. "You want to go?" she said to Jared.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely, I want her to be happy." Jared got that out with a little more emotion, like that was the thing he was sure about, which left—

"And you want us to go with you?" Jensen said, tossing the words out like the answer was nothing to him. He'd expressed more passion over what to watch off the TiVo.

"If you—the invitation kind of went on a tour, New York, Texas, here. It's um, the wedding is next Sunday, so if you want to?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Jensen said and rubbed at his face. "Don't want to shave though, man. It was just getting past the itchy stage."

Danneel snorted in derision. In her opinion getting past the itchy stage required a razor.

Jensen glared at her.

"Poor, baby," Jared said, and Jensen turned his glare a little to the right.

They stared at each other for a long beat and then turned their attention back to their dinner.

A few minutes later they both started scratching at their stubbly chins.

* * *

Danneel finished up in bathroom and stepped into the bedroom.

Jensen was sitting up against the headboard. "So, it would appear we have a date with Jared," he said.

"Yup," Danneel said. She slid into the bed and waited.

"Huh," Jensen said and then flicked the light off, sliding down until he was bumping his ass against hers.

* * *

Jared could hear Danneel behind him making some disparaging comments about her shoes, and Jensen's answering rumble of not very effective commiseration, if the yelp that followed was anything to go by. Jared ignored them both and made a beeline for his chair. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was hoping Jensen and Danneel would go to bed and leave him be.

Icarus landed in his lap, turned around twice and flopped down. Jared trailed his fingers through the dog's fur and listened to the creak of Jensen's chair and the sound of a cork coming out of a bottle, liquid sloshing and paper rattling.

Something pointy hit Jared in the forehead. Icarus barked a few times and then took off for safer sleeping places. Jared opened his eyes to see Jensen grinning at him; there was a yellow paper airplane resting on his chest. Danneel was watching them from the other side of the table. She had the good bourbon out, but wasn't offering it around.

"I had fun, Padalecki," she said, raising her glass. "You know how to show a woman a good time."

"Helps that you were the best looking woman there, Harris," Jensen said.

"Why, thank you, Jensen, that's sweet of you to say," she said.

"Nothing but the truth, right Jared?" Jensen poked at Jared's ankle with the toe of his shoe. "She looked fantastic dancing with you."

"So you said," Jared said loudly, and it came out like an accusation, but all Jensen did was smile at him—soft and lazy and a little smug.

Jared tried closing his eyes again, but then there was nothing to distract him from the memory of Jensen telling him exactly how much he liked watching Danneel dance with him. He'd been in so close, Jared had felt Jensen's breath licking over his skin and he'd just kept talking and touching Jared, hands all over him, and Jared had wanted to run.

"I meant it," Jensen said, quiet, just the way he'd said all those things right in Jared's ear at the reception, and he sounded closer. Jared opened his eyes.

Jensen had slid his chair over; he was close enough to reach out and touch, or reach out and hold Jared's wrists to the arms of his chair, like he knew Jared was seconds from bolting. "I meant everything I said," Jensen said, and his expression was serious, and full of heat, and Jared tried to jerk one hand free, but Jensen held him firmly, and he quit struggling.

"I thought you looked pretty fine dancing with Ackles, too," Danneel said, voice like honey, and Jared felt the blood drain from his face. "The two of you—all wrapped around each other."

"Jesus," Jared said, and his face heated back up. Maybe he could claim a fever, because they were—this was— "I was at your wedding," Jared said. "Forsaking all others, remember that part." He said it baldly, harshly, aiming to wound, wanting to wake them the hell up, but all he got was a darker smile from Jensen.

Danneel slammed her glass onto the table, and Jared turned to see her leaning forward, elbows on the table; all her easy charm was gone, and there was nothing but steel and certainty in her eyes. "He made that vow to me, Jared. To me. I say what it means. You hear me?"

Jared couldn't look away, couldn't say anything but a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

She nodded once and then leaned back, gesturing at Jensen, and Jared looked back to find Jensen had manoeuvred closer. He was so in over his head here. He could smell Jensen's cologne and the liquor on his breath, and Jensen was talking again, saying things about Jared and the way he'd felt when they'd danced together, and Jared could half remember Sandy, sleek and happy and gorgeous, clapping her hands and smiling at them like she'd though it was a joke maybe. He'd looked over at Danneel and seen—he'd seen her watching them, watching and wanting, and it wasn't like he hadn't known what asking them both had meant—and Jensen had let go of his wrists. Jared could get up and leave whenever he wanted to.

"Want you," Jensen said and his hand was on Jared's neck pulling him in, pulling him closer. Jared could feel Jensen's ring, body hot, but unyielding, against his skin and then dragging against his hair, and Jensen said something like how he hadn't known or something, and he was kissing Jared, lips soft and his fingers light against Jared's head, and Jared couldn't move.

"I am so on the wrong side of this table," Danneel said from far away, and then she was closer and laughing, and Jensen was gone, but Danneel was tight against his chest, just the way she'd danced with him, arms around his neck and her fingers trailing through his hair.

He'd been fine up until then, but it had been so bittersweet and public and only a shimmer of a reflection of what he wanted. She tipped his head, and where Jensen had been painfully gentle, she was hungry and almost violent with him, kissing him and scraping her teeth against his lips and demanding he open for her. Jared had set his hands lightly against her back, and he slid them lower until he was holding her against him. Her ass fit perfectly in his palms.

Jared let her kiss him and touch him, and then she leaned back, looking at him assessingly. "Honey, you don't need to look so frightened," she said softly, and was that how he looked?

"I can't—I don't want to come between you," Jared said.

"Now there's an idea," Jensen said from behind him, and Jared started, he'd lost track of Jensen while Danneel had kept him occupied.

Jensen's hands gripped his shoulders, hard, uncompromising, and he squeezed once like he wanted to shake Jared, and then his hands were moving down against Jared's chest, fingers catching and toying with the buttons on Jared's shirt. That ring was right there in the open again, and Jensen's voice was back in his ear, lick of breath on his ear. "We could put you in the middle, Jared. Fuck, that would be hot. I want to watch her fuck you, I want to feel how much you want it. Want my hands on you, all that skin, all of you, Jared. Want you."

"Want you," Danneel echoed, and then she leaned back precariously, his hands the only thing holding her until Jensen caught up her hands in his. She stepped off of his lap, and Jensen backed away. Jared was loose again, free of their entangling embrace.

Danneel backed up a step and turned and headed for the stairs.

Jensen was quiet behind him, waiting for him to move. Waiting for him to choose.

Jared stood up, shrugged his jacket off onto the chair behind him. He tugged off the tie that had been hanging undone for hours and let it drop to the floor. Icarus would have it destroyed by morning.

He followed Danneel up the stairs.

* * *

Jensen caught up to Jared at the doorway to the bedroom. Jared was still, one hand wrapped around the door frame, and Jensen thought he was going to have to catch Jared again before he could run. He'd been doing it all night, first after Jared had broken away from Danneel on the dance floor, again when he'd tried to get away from Jensen, but Jensen had seen him dancing with Danneel, seen him stop hiding how much he wanted her, and then got to feel for himself how hard Jared clutched at him, before he'd tried to push away.

Jensen came up behind him, hand spread out on Jared's back, ready to do some catching, but Jared leaned back into him, letting Jensen take some of his weight. Jensen got a look at Danneel standing by the bed; her back was to them, and she'd pulled down the zipper on her dress and was letting it fall slowly to the floor. Jensen watched Jared watching her.

"I meant it when I said I want you in the middle. Want my hands on you," Jensen said, and stepped up closer, pulled Jared back against his chest.

Jared pressed back against him and Jensen ran his hands down the expanse of Jared's chest, across hard muscle and soft flesh flowing one to the other, leading down to a thickening waist and fuller hips than Jared had ever had, and Jensen wanted his hands on the skin there, the softer flesh. He worked on Jared's clothes, tugging and pulling while he watched Danneel peel out of her stockings, the line of her back an arch of gold reflecting the lamplight. She was smooth curves, taut muscle, skin perfect and tanned, sculpted and honed, soft looking swell of hip and breast that fooled the eye until you touched and found hard strength.

Jensen got Jared's pants open, slid the zipper down, and Jared widened his stance, leaned more heavily against Jensen's chest, and they watched Danneel unhook her bra, let it tumble to the floor. She had her fingers under the band of her panties, ready to slide them off her hips, when Jensen got his hand on Jared's cock, hot and firm and twitching in his grip. He didn't stroke, couldn't trust himself not to just keep going and grind against Jared's ass; he just held Jared tightly, and leant up to whisper against his neck, "Want to watch while you fuck her, want to touch you, touch her. Feel you both."

"Jesus, Jensen," Jared said and tried to buck up into his hand, but Jensen loosened his grip. He knew how Jared felt, how it was almost too much to even think about, because Jensen had been thinking about it, had been seeing it all night long, like some carnal vision superimposed over their party clothes and polite smiles and only slightly daring turns on the dance floor.

Danneel turned around, naked, beautiful, but it was the look in her eyes, desire and arousal and something like relief while she watched them that had Jensen imagining how Jared must look to her—spread out, his own desire exposed, held there by Jensen's own hands.

"Bed, now," Jensen told them, giving Jared a little shove so he could get enough space to get at his own clothes.

* * *

What Danneel had been seeing over days and weeks—flickers of arousal, interest and some softer emotions that she had, as often as not, told herself were in her own mind, they were nothing compared to Jared with the filters off. He had stopped hiding and was spread out for her, letting Jensen show him off for her; he looked soaked in lust, and where Jensen was watching her from between crooked brows and a slanted smile, trying to distract her from the intensity of his stare with the sly tilt of his lips, Jared's look was more direct. Jensen was whispering more filth in his ear, and she couldn't catch more than a word now and then. Jared didn't look like he needed winding up any higher, but Jensen never like to play it safe.

Jensen pushed away from Jared, started tearing at his shirt buttons like he thought she and Jared would start without him. She wanted to laugh at him, would have if she'd been sure enough that Jared would understand the flavour of it, that there was never any real bite in their mockery of each other. She made herself be serious, and she beckoned to Jared, resisted touching him, and invited him into the bed with a gesture, like she was offering him a seat at her table. She smiled a little at that image, and Jared's intense look faded as he sprawled back against the sheets. He smiled, wide and happy, and this was the man she knew.

He was a large, intensely powerful man, but she felt something with him she'd never known before and it was nothing like nervousness or fear. She did _know_ him—intimately, in a way she never had before with any man she'd taken to bed, not even Jensen, at least not at first, and she felt such certainty about him, like she had learned to feel for Jensen.

Jensen climbed into the bed behind Jared, tipping her a ridiculous wink and bending to whisper more incendiary words in Jared's ear. The thought of what Jared might do when he'd finally tired of Jensen's talking made her smile in anticipation.

* * *

Jared was burning hot again. Jensen's hands were the source, or maybe his voice, touching him, tickling at his skin. Maybe it was Danneel, hot and slick around him, riding him, because he could barely move, held so tight by Jensen behind him. Danneel had slid into the bed to face him, slung one leg over his hip and impaled herself on him with a slow roll of her hips while Jensen held him still and kept talking. He was explaining all the things he wanted to do to Jared, and Jared was cool with the whole damn list and was coming up with one of his own that might involve him getting to move a little more, or involve Jensen moving a little more than the teasing rolling grind he was doing against Jared's ass.

Danneel moved against him, powerful muscles squeezing him in a relentless rhythm, a challenge he wanted to meet; he wanted to fuck into her hard enough to do her justice, but she had him pinned back against Jensen. He was entangled in them again.

He watched Jensen's hand move from tormenting his nipples to hers, and she arched up and back, squeezing him hard and letting go, and she moved enough that Jared could finally thrust into her. The relief at having some freedom was most of his pleasure, until Jensen's hand shifted down and down, and he had his hand around Jared's cock, and Danneel was shuddering around Jared, flexing and moaning and rubbing herself against Jensen's knuckles. They were all making as much noise as Jensen finally.

Danneel had her hand around Jared's arm, fingers tight enough to leave him with a ring of bruises, and Jared grabbed her and pulled her closer, trapping Jensen's arm between them; he kissed her hard and messy, and then she pulled back, dragging her teeth across his lip as she let go of his mouth, and Jared had to mark her back, had to get at the flawless skin of her neck or her shoulder. Jared's teeth found her skin, and she gave him the space to drive himself to orgasm.

Jensen's hand was splayed across his chest, over his heart, holding him while Danneel slid away from him, and he let himself drift a little, listening to Jensen's voice and ignoring the press of Jensen's cock against his ass.

He thought about asking Jensen to fuck him. Wondered if that would take enough of Jensen's energy that he'd shut up for a half a second.

Jared regained a little more coherence and realized he could hear Danneel's voice as well and feel both of them stroking him—light touches, more soothing than arousing.

"So beautiful," Jensen whispered in his ear, and Jared decided to pretend he'd meant Danneel.

Jared opened his eyes, saw Danneel watching him. Jensen was talking again, whispers of sound more felt than heard. Jared tried to relax his body, tried to let himself seem to be drifting still, while he looked at Danneel and she looked back. The growing light of evil delight in her eyes was going to give it away though, so Jared moved, bucking and sliding, twisting; he tackled Jensen to the bed, and this time he could stop Jensen's mouth before the singing started.

Jensen kissed with almost as much teeth as Danneel, and Jared had to fight to keep control, to keep ahead of Jensen's quicksilver tongue. He was thrusting up against Jared, getting urgent in his need for friction. Jared would be happy to just let Jensen exhaust himself against the immovable object that had him pinned down, but Danneel deserved to play too. Jared lifted up, giving up Jensen's mouth, and when he turned to Danneel, she was watching with a look of longing and yearning and a dash of envy.

"You keep his mouth busy," Jared said to her, and slithered a little farther south. "I'm going to see if I still remember how to—" he made a gesture with his hand that she seemed to understand.

Jensen was starting to speak again when Danneel dove on him with enthusiasm and stopped him mid-word.

Jared kept sliding down until Jensen's cock was right in front of him. He'd felt some yearning of his own lately, a little longing to have a chance to do this again. He'd kept himself from thinking about it when he'd lived with Jensen and when they'd been far apart, but lately he'd been thinking the choice to give this up, a choice he'd made before he'd ever met Jensen, had been the wrong one all along.

It was a heady rush to take Jensen into his mouth, to make him moan and buck, to hold him down and make him feel so good. This he could do.

Danneel had let up on Jensen, had sat back to let him give voice to nonsense. All the words were gone. It was her fingers that slid through Jared's hair while he brought Jensen to climax.

* * *

Jared tried to pull himself into a tight line in the centre of the bed; he was used to sprawling out on his stomach after sex, letting his body cool down, but Danneel had thrown the sheet over him and was pressed tight to his side; she'd turned so her ass was snug up against him and her feet were braced against his leg. Jensen came back from the bathroom and dropped down on his other side and flailed around until he was her mirror image, his ass pressed into Jared's hip and his cold feet flexing against Jared's leg. Jared figured if he waited for them to settle into sleep, he could slide out from between them, find his own bed.

He was nearly asleep when Icarus hopped up on the bed, turned around three times, and made himself comfortable between Jared's feet. Jared wasn't going anywhere.


End file.
